


Early Morning Shouting Matches

by shannie541



Series: Reunited (And It's About To Be Awkward As Fuck) [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Dean Needs A Hug, Dean Needs Love, Dean-Centric, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Overworked Dean Winchester, Pre-Stanford, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective John Winchester (in his own twisted way), Sam Being Sam, Sam Being an Asshole, Sam Being an Idiot, Sick Dean, Sick Dean Winchester, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 15:38:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4025422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannie541/pseuds/shannie541
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flashback to the night Dean and John find out about Stanford. Fights ensue - naturally!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Early Morning Shouting Matches

**Author's Note:**

> (This has not been proof-read. at all. So forgive any errors. I just really wanted to put something up since it's been so long. I'll go back and take a look over tomorrow and delete this little note when I have.)
> 
> This piece of the story highlights a pivotal point in the development of Sam and Dean's relationship and tries to explain a piece of why things were so tense between them in the first story of this series even through text message (at least on Dean's part). This series will jump around a bit in the timeline of events of Dean and Cas's relationship developing, Dean and Sam's relationship all but falling apart but them maybe (hopefully?) reuniting and getting to be close again and Dean's relationship with some of the other SPN characters. This is just a piece of what led to Sam and Dean falling apart with hints of backstory.

Dean’s drawn out of the comfort of his and Sam’s shared bedroom by the ever-escalating yells that emanate from downstairs. The voices that started off as hushed and tense, but still easy to ignore, have gradually grown into a fast-paced shouting match that neither the closed bedroom door nor the covers pulled firmly over his head can drown out. The words may occasionally be muffled, but tension and anger radiate from them. He groans before rolling out of bed and throwing on a stray pair of jeans lying on the floor (that might actually be Sam’s if the way they’re pooling around his feet is any indication). The room’s draped in darkness, indicative of the late hour but Dean ignores it – and the pervasive thought that he _just_ got to bed and has an early shift tomorrow (or, today, really) and has to go play referee to his dad and brother.

When he’s out in the hall, the voices become much more distinct. John’s yelling now, the booming baritone of his voice reverberating through the hall accusing Sam of being _ungrateful_ and _too spoiled by Dean for too long_. Dean can just imagine the hard glare in his brother’s eye at the accusation and the stubborn jut of his jaw as he towers over their father like he has since sophomore year of high school. This has all become so frequent and predictable lately that Dean can all but mime out their tantrums.

By the time he gets downstairs, the headache that had started to form during the middle of his shift at The Roadhouse as grown into a full and stead throb behind his eyes. His patience is shot, he’s tired and sore and irritated. So, when he rounds the corner on his brother and father standing nose-to-nose all but snarling at one another, he steps between the two without hesitation, shoves them apart and spits out a curse. “Hey!” he calls, jerking his head to meet Sam’s eyes as he stares daggers at their father. “What the fuck is going on with the two of you?”

Behind him, he hears papers ruffling and spares his father a glance over his shoulder. “Like you didn’t know, Dean? Your brother here was planning on running off to _Stanford_ and what – leave us high and dry here? How the hell do you think we could afford this?!”

Dean bristles. The hairs on the back of his neck are on end but he closes his eyes and pushes away the nausea that bubbles beneath the surface. He’s not stupid, at least not as stupid as Sam seems to think that he is. They’ve shared a room and all but live in each other’s back pocket their entire lives. Hell, some of Dean’s earliest memories are of his feeding or changing Sam as a baby. He knows his brother almost better than he knows himself and _of course_ he’d seen the shiny and glistening college brochures hidden carefully throughout Sam’s half of the room. He’d ignored it, though, hoping that at some point Sam would come to him and talk – not even ask for his opinion – but just tell him what was happening. He sure as hell didn’t expect to find out at three in the morning when he’s standing between him and their father ready to rip each other’s throats out.

Sam, though, doesn’t notice Dean’s reaction or any sort of hesitation. He takes advantage of Dean’s slackened grip on the front of his t-shirt and spits out hotly, “I got a full ride, Dad! They’re paying for everything. You’d know that if you just _listened_ for once!”

“ _Hey!_ You’ll watch how you talk to me, boy, and show me some goddamn respect!”

“Oh, you want respect? That’s rich coming from you considering you’ve been yelling in my face for the past two hours!”

“Sam,” Dean finally interjects, albeit weakly, “just lay off would you? Now’s not the time for this shit.”

“Listen to your brother, Samuel.”

“Dad, you lay off, too. I can handle this.”

If Sam was huffing and puffing furiously before, his sudden tensing and low growl do not speak well for Dean de-escalating this situation. “What’s there to handle, Dean? Jesus! Most fathers – and brothers – would be ecstatic about someone getting a full ride anywhere but Stanford? That’s huge!”

“Sam, you’re not hearing me here,” Dean tries.

Behind them, John snorts derisively and crunches what Dean assumes is Sam’s acceptance letter in his hands before tossing it carelessly onto the floor. “Talk some sense into your brother, Dean. I’m going out.”

The front door slams before Dean can even process what’s happened. Before him, Sam still is furious, shaking with it even. Dean lets his hand fall from his brother’s chest and steps back. Sam’s too long hair is swiped carelessly away from his flushed face and his nostrils flare with anger. There’s a glisten to his eyes that Dean knows are from rage not tears staring at the front door as if it has personally offended him.

“Sam?”

“Don’t, Dean,” he utters harshly. Their eyes don’t meet and for once, Dean is glad – afraid of what he’d see in his brother’s hazel eyes. Contempt. Hate? Whatever he is, he’s sure he’s not ready to face it.

“Goddammit, I can’t wait to get the hell out of the place and away from everything.” _Everyone_ , Dean hears. Sam’s slowly deflating, shoulders held with less tension than just a second before but Dena’s head is positively pounding in that moment. His stomach churns and he clenches his jaw – doesn’t say anything – to keep the bile down. “You can’t even say anything, can you? Can’t congratulate me? Say you’re proud of me? Excited, even?” Sam huffs a humorless laugh and rolls his eyes, “I don’t even know what I was expecting from the two of you.” _‘The two of you’_ , as if he and John were anything alike about anything (no matter how hard Dean tries sometimes) especially about this, about Sam.

“Congratulations, Sam. I’m proud of you. So excited,” Dean says hollowly. He eyes the crumpled acceptance letter lying carelessly on the floor as he speak purposefully ignoring Sam’s frustrated grunt. He means what he says. He _is_ proud of Sam and knows what he’s accomplished is a huge deal. He’ll surely appreciate it more though when the lights in the living room aren’t practically blinding and his ears aren’t ringing from the earlier shouting match. “I wish you would’ve told me, though. That you didn’t feel like you had to hide something from me. Dad? I can totally understand. But me? What were you expecting, me and Dad to team up?”

Sam’s quiet for a moment as if he’s collecting himself. He inhales deeply and takes a step closer to Dean, fists clenched at his side. “What, are you kidding me, Dean? Every damn day is you doing your best Dad impression – wearing his leather jacket, listening to his music, driving his car, working with Bobby…what was I supposed to think?! And when was I going to tell you? You’re never here. Always out at the bar or –“

“I’m at the bar working, Sam! Believe me that if I could be there for fun, I would but I’m working since Dad can’t and so you don’t have to! And when I’m not there, I’m working with Bobby – making _money_ and it has fuck all to do with what Dad thinks! I’m elbow deep in car parts working so you have somewhere to stay – a roof over your head, that fancy damn computer you had to have for your birthday that you probably used to sneak and fill out all those college applications! You – you know what? You talk about how Dad and I are the same and you can’t even see it, can you? Ok, you know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna go crash at Bobby’s for a few days. I’m tired and I can’t deal with yours and Dad’s bullshit right now, okay?” Dean goes to collect his keys from the coffee table. His phone’s upstairs charging but he doesn’t need it right now. The only people that would probably call him are people he doesn’t want to talk to. He leaves Sam in stunned silence, shoves his shoes in his boots waiting by the door and slams the door shirt firmly behind and goes to Impala. Once he’s inside, he thumps his head on the steering wheel a few good times, eyes the cassette tapes sitting in their box on the passenger seat and almost reaches for one. _Dad’s car, dad’s music…_

 

 

He starts the car and drives to Bobby’s in silence.

**Author's Note:**

> :)
> 
>  
> 
> So. I've been shit about updating anything lately but I feel like I may be getting back into the groove of things? Maybe? I graduated college back in December so I was applying (and being accepted to!) grad school for the fall and registering for classes and doing all that sort of fun stuff for a while. And mostly I've been hating my job and looking for a better one and getting hella bummed out because of it. So...yeah. That's basically been my life lately!
> 
> But, I'm going on a mini-vacation/spur-of-the-moment type trip this weekend to MIAMI!!! so I don't expect to have anything new for any of my WIPs until Wednesday (at the earliest) when I get back. So. Yeah. Thanks for reading!!!! Comments/kudos/subscriptions are all appreciated.


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